


With These Wings of Mine

by boazpriestly



Series: No Matter What Universe We're In, I Will Always Find You [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels Are Known, Gen, Prosthetic Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boazpriestly/pseuds/boazpriestly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All his brothers and sisters had began growing their wings by the time they were two or three, but Cas was 12 and his back was as bare as a human's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With These Wings of Mine

Castiel pulled his body into a tight ball on the waiting room chair. His mother rested her hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair. He hated that he has to be here when his siblings get to be playing at school. 

"How come God made me this way?" He asked angrily, his knees muffling his voice. 

"You’re special, baby," his mother said. 

Castiel huffed. “I’m a freak.” 

His mother’s hand stilled, then traveled down his neck until it was pressed between his shoulder blades; she caressed one knob, then the other, taking her time to feel the skin-covered bones beneath his shirt. 

"Look at me, honey," she finally whispered. Castiel turned his head to face her, keeping his cheek pressed to his legs. "God did not make a mistake, Castiel. He made you this way for a purpose, I have faith in that." 

"But why? Why make me the only angel who can’t grow wings? Why make me the joke of the whole class?" Castiel could feel tears welling in his eyes and he wiped them away quickly. All his brothers and sisters had began growing their wings by the time they were two or three, but Cas was 12 and his back was as bare as a humans.

Once when he was eight he’d found three feathers on his pillowcase and he ran to his parents’ room screaming that he was finally getting his wings, but when he saw his older brother doubled over with laughter Castiel knew the truth. His mother held him for three hours before he was able to stop crying. He feels that same way now as he waits for the doctors to call him back so they can fit him with a new set of prosthetics to replace his old ones. 

His mother leaned forwards and kissed Castiel’s temple. “Maybe God thought he needed someone like you in the world. Someone to show everyone that it’s not about the way you look, but about how big your heart is.” 

"No one can see my heart." 

"Not unless you show it to them." She kissed Castiel again and then sat back again to look at her magazine. She rubbed circles against Castiel’s back. 

Castiel closed his eyes and thought about her words. What was he supposed to prove to people without having wings? He wasn’t something special like Michael with his huge golden wings, or like Anna with her freckled auburn wings. Hell, he couldn’t even pass as an exceptional human like his best friends Dean and Sam. He was stuck in the middle between the two most well known species on the planet, and he didn’t know how that was going to help anyone. 

"Castiel D’Angeles?" The head nurse finally called. 

His mother stood up with him and held his hand as they followed behind the nurse. Castiel groaned, stomach suddenly sick, he just wanted to be normal for once. 

****

"I thought they were gonna be bigger than your old ones," Dean said, petting his hands over the grey feathers. 

"They are, a little bit," Castiel told him. He watched Dean from over his shoulder, trying not to blush over how mesmerized Dean was over his new wings. "They mostly only adjusted how they fit on my back. They aren’t so tight now, you know?" 

Dean nodded. “Can you fly with these ones?” 

Castiel shook his head, frowning. “The doctor said he won’t fit me with fliers until I’m thirteen. He said I have to be entering puberty for them to work.” 

Dean looked up as Castiel and smiled. He danced his fingers from the tips of the feathers down to where they met Castiel’s shirt. “Promise that you’ll take me flying when you get your license?” 

"Tha-that’s not for another four years. And you hate flying." 

"I hate flying with your brothers," Dean corrected. He sat down next to Castiel and picked up his sketchbook and pencil. "I’ll be okay if you’re the one flying me." 

Castiel’s face turned redder than the ripe tomatoes in his mother’s garden. “I, um, I promise, then.” 

Dean grinned again and opened the book to a blank page. “Good. Now don’t move so I can get the feathers right.” 

Castiel couldn’t help his smile. He hoped flying with Dean was as good as the butterflies in his stomach were promising.


End file.
